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Sunday, I had vowed I wouldn’t go outside. It had been snowing all day, and though it wasn’t much – or so I thought – I still didn’t want to go out in it.

But that night, Ruu and I were the only ones in the apartment, and I knew I wanted to get groceries the next day. I had told her I would buy her some stuff, since she was short on cash and I didn’t want her to starve. Anyway, I was about to make hot chocolate around 8:30 when she said, “I really want cookies.” And it hit me – I wanted cookies, too. I stopped what I was doing, told her to get dressed (she was wearing pajamas), and we ran out to my car. Of course, I hadn’t thought at all, so my shoes were thin flats and I was wearing them without socks – so the snow could get in and freeze my toes off, and I forgot my mittens in my other coat. So I scraped all the ice off of my car and jumped into the driver’s seat, where I let out a yell. It was really cold.

We drove to Marsh, which, on any non-snowy day, you could easily walk to in about ten minutes. The drive is no problem at all. That is, unless you accidentally hit your windshield wiper as you’re driving and smear ice all over to lessen your visibility. And then you run over a low median because it was covered in snow and therefore looked like a pile of snow. We got there and back safely, though, rest assured. My car is fine and not dead because of it, thank you very much, and I am NOT a bad driver. Anyone could have mistaken that median for a pile of snow.

Anyway, this finals week has been the most boring, yet the most relaxing, ever. I don’t have my finals until Thursday and Friday, and I’m not even worried about them. So all I have to do this week is work, and even then, the earliest I go in (except Friday) is at 1:00 p.m. So, I’ve been doing a lot of sleeping in, watching Buffy (I’m up to season six!), and knitting. It’s nice and all, but I really would like to go home. Sitting around doing nothing is not exactly my cup of tea. I’d much rather be at home, baking our Christmas goodies, or visiting my boy, whom I miss very much.

Monday, I decided to ride my bike to work. It’s crazy, but I’ve been doing it for a while in this weather. Well, I was lucky there were no cars around and it was in daylight, but even my mountain bike’s tires were no match for slush. It slipped out from under me, and I ended up landing face-down in the slush-covered road. Not fun. I’ve decided that I probably shouldn’t be riding my bike anymore, especially in the dark and on the icy, slushy roads. Now, I’m walking. It takes a half hour to get to work, and a half hour back. Not the best use of my time, but at least I’m not paying for parking (I have a bone to pick with Parking Services tomorrow), not risking my life (too much), and I’m getting (some) exercise.

And then, today. I made an omelet for dinner, since I’m trying to use up what food I have left around here. It didn’t taste funny, but the egg texture seemed weird to me, or something. I got to work, and I started to feel sick. I made it through all three hours of my shift, even though Justin and Sarah said I could go home if I felt like it. My stomach was in knots, and I thought I was going to vomit a few times, but I was able to keep myself in check. I have decided that it was either my eggs or the turkey that I put in the omelet that wasn’t so good, but I pitched them both when I got home, anyway. Nothing like giving yourself mild food poisoning, right?

I swear I don’t have a death wish, but it seems like every stupid little thing is piling up against me. Karma? Pfft. Who knows? All I want is for this week to end quickly so I can stop waiting around in Muncie and go home to have some real fun!


On Friday, I had my last shift at work for a week or so, and then I sat down in the Student Center with a Frappuccino and the Grapes of Wrath. It’s an okay book, but had I read it in high school like a bunch of my friends, I would have hated it. I like this particular passage, though:

“When the night came again, it was black night, for the stars could not pierce the dust to get down, and the window lights could not even spread beyond their own yards. Now the dust was evenly mixed with the air, an emulsion of dust and air. Houses were shut tight, and cloth wedged around doors and windows, but the dust came in so thinly that it could not be seen in the air, and it settled like pollen on the chairs and tables, on the dishes. The people brushed it from their shoulders. Little lines of dust lay at the door sills.” (5)

Steinbeck sure knew how to paint scenery, but it makes reading this book a drag sometimes. Hope to finish it tomorrow. I have a lot of books to read this summer, and that’s not even counting the ones for class.

After I packed for a bit, Alex helped me get some of my things over to Jess’s apartment. I love that girl, and I can’t wait to live with her again even if it is for only a short time. I had to say goodbye to Alex around that time, too, since he had to pack and go home.

I sat around the lounge for a few hours and talked with friends I haven’t really had the chance to see all year (because I’m a recluse). I feel terrible that I couldn’t have taken the time to hang out with them before.

My mom and grandparents made it up to the dorm around 6:30. I wasn’t in the best of moods. All I wanted to do was leave. I was tired of being there, in that dorm, on that campus, in that city. I had been ready to leave for months.

We finally packed the van, and then I had to sweep and mop the floor of my room. I accidentally tipped the mop bucket over and spilled dirty water all over the place. It was a disaster. Mom came up and helped me clean it up, though, and I finally got to check out. We were starving, so we went to Steak ‘n’ Shake for dinner.

When we got to the house, I went to bed early and slept for about 12 hours. My grandparents left, and I basically sat around the house, knitting and reading. I stayed up to watch Saturday Night Live just because of Betty White and all the returning female alums, and it was a great episode compared to the ones they’ve been showing in the past couple years.

Sunday, I slept for ten hours and bummed around the house some more. I finally got to doing laundry, but I didn’t shower or change out of my pajamas. Mom liked her mother’s day gift, though, and so that was nice.

Today, I’ve been a bum still. I did one last load of laundry, and I’ve been reading and knitting Alex’s Companion Cube. It looks so good, but I can’t wait until it’s done. I miss my quick-to-gratify projects – which, speaking of, I may be completing a quick sewing project soon, if I can motivate myself to do it. However, I think cleaning my room may be the next task I have to tackle before I return to school.

Being home hasn’t been bad so far. Mom and I have argued a little bit, but nothing much. She keeps telling me I can’t save the world, but I’m not trying to do that – rather, I’m trying to save my world, and what matters to me. It’s difficult, and I’m not quite sure what the future holds. So it goes, you know.

I love finals week.

During finals week, I can make two key lime pies because I actually have the time to do so.

During finals week, I can go to Broad Ripple on Tuesday night with some of the boys, where I try hookah and Turkish coffee for the first time and then proceed to eat very sloppy gyros while walking down uneven sidewalks (and no napkins).

During finals week, my boy can stay the night and cuddle in the morning.

During finals week, I can go out for Cinco de Mayo and try my first margarita – and be absolutely goofy afterwards.

However, one thing I don’t like about finals week is the fact that I spent hundreds of dollars on books and sold few of them back. I only gained $55 out of the ones I did sell, and then there was one book I told the guy I’d turn around and let him do whatever he wanted with it, just as long as he got rid of it. I hate textbooks.

And now, since I am done with finals, comes the worst part. I have to deconstruct this room I have made for myself, and watch some of my friends go. I will miss them. My walls are now bare and frightening. I want to keep my room. I’m tired of picking up and moving. I want a place of my own. I’m only going to be home for one week before I have to return to this city. I never really seem to leave.

I will enjoy the time I have though, and despite my summer already being somewhat mapped out for me (work-class-reading-knitting-writing-traveling), I think it will be good. Besides, it’s really the last one I’ve got. I’m technically a senior now – weird, eh?

How to Make Key Lime Pie:

  1. First, you must want a desire for the key lime pie – not days, not weeks, but months in advance. Reminisce about your dad’s delicious key lime pie.
  2. A few months later, your professor announces that she will have a cookout for you during finals week. Decide to make the pie.
  3. Ask your dad for his key lime pie recipe.
  4. Decide to not only make one pie for the cookout, but one to share with your friends. Double the recipe.
  5. Drive to the grocery store and pick up the ingredients for the pie(s). This is especially fun if you’re actually practicing for your driver’s license. You do an all right job parking, surprisingly.
  6. Buy the ingredients. Separate from your boyfriend while trying to find lime juice. Don’t worry, you’ll meet up again in the paper towel aisle.
  7. The cookout isn’t until Wednesday, but you think you might make the pie on Tuesday. Realize you won’t have any time on Tuesday. Walk back to your dorm in cold, stormy weather to make that pie.
  8. Call your dad. Find out how he’s doing, and tell him you’re going to make the pie. Also, you think it’s cool that your little brother is taking guitar lessons. Wish you could play guitar.
  9. Grab a bunch of bowls, the kitchen key, and a whisk. You’re supposed to have a mixer, but a whisk will do. Your arm will just get tired later.
  10. Put on the techno playlist you’ve been listening to for the past week. Grab the big red bowl you checked out from the hall desk and decide you can put all the ingredients in it (and surprisingly, you’re right).
  11. Mix the ingredients, but save the Cool Whip for last. Add in more lime juice than recipe calls for because you want it to be extra limey.
  12. Your techno playlist ends. Put your iPod on shuffle. “Hotel Yorba” comes on while you’re adding the Cool Whip, and you think about how long its been since you’ve heard it. Dance around the kitchen.
  13. You realize that you’ve made essentially three pounds (maybe more) of key lime pie filling. Holy crap.
  14. Pour most of that key lime pie filling into the two graham cracker crusts you have ready.
  15. Eat the rest of the filling out of the bowl, and rejoice in how awesome it tastes. Lick the whisk and spatula, too.
  16. Put the pies in your fridge. You wish you could bury your face into those pies right now.
  17. Wash your dishes, including the dirty ones you’ve had lying around. Johnny Cash’s cover of “Hurt” comes on. You accidentally break a spoon.
  18. You finish the dishes while listening to “Psycho Killer” and strutting around the dinky kitchen.
  19. Carry your dishes to your room, and take the key, whisk, and red bowl to the desk. Retrieve your learner’s permit that you left as collateral.
  20. Go back to your room, and repair the broken spoon with masking tape. It’s not pretty, but it will do. Put the rest of your dishes away.
  21. Watch Chowder and The Big Bang Theory. Think about how, maybe, you should work on your final project that is due Wednesday night at your professor’s cookout. Let’s hope you can get that done on time.

(Also, I’ll rejoice in completing goal #46, which is making Key Lime Pie the way my dad does.)